Silver and Cold
by loveofthering
Summary: Shea has stolen into the night without a word about where he was going to his brother, Flick. Will Flick go after Shea or stay to care for little Wil? Please R&R...
1. Default Chapter

Silver and Cold  
  
Chapter 1  
  
The Curse on Shannara  
  
The clock ticked on the mantel in the Inn, while the fire cracked just under it in the hearth. Light footsteps paced back and forth as the minutes turned to an hour and then another hour and another.  
  
The waiting was excruciating that tore at each man's soul who stood staring at the door and praying for the latest bit of information. 'Healers, bah!' thought Shea in almost a curse going through his mind. 'What good are they really but for mending a simple cut or bandaging a sore limb.'  
  
He paced over to the window and pulled back the curtains to peer out over the town that he had know most all of his life. He knew each and every crack and crevice in this town, down each dirt path or cobblestone in this sleepy Valley.  
  
Shea knew that in a couple of hours the sun would be setting, but from the view out of the window one could hardly tell from the thick dismal gray of overcastting clouds. The cold gloominess of the day matched the mood of every man and woman who lived here and especially for himself.  
  
For this being the tale end of summer, one would hardly recognize this as it seemed more like autumn for the cold spell that had set in and so unusual in the Vale. If this were any other summer that he could recall, he would have been sitting out on the porch to catch the slightest hint of a breeze from the stifling hot humid temperature. Every window would have been opened and doors as well, to air out the stickiness from within. The sky would have been a solid blue with a white, piercing-hot sun that would bake the land turning the lush, green grass to a course, dried brown.  
  
But this was not just any summer day it was a day that would be etched in Shea's mind forever. A cursed day just like much of his life had been that lead up to this moment in time. Outside of a handful of happier times such as meeting and marrying his beloved wife, Myra and the birth of his beautiful daughter Shannon. His life that he shared with them seemed to be a blessed gift that should have endured long after his own death. But only a short lived blessing that dangled only eighteen years in his life, a mire tease of time for any man, let alone only a shadow in the life of an elf, in which he was both.  
  
Was he born upon a curse bared by his elven father that he should live only to watch painfully all those he loved slowly being taking away from him? Did Jerle Shannara not die early barely knowing the last of his sons? What of his mother, did she not die also, never seeing him past his youth? He could barely recall the gentleness of her face or the sound of her voice. Then hadn't the dirt of the grave of his own wife only just settle after her death last year from an illness no healer could guess, let alone cure?  
But now, was it his beloved daughter's turn? Was she too going to be taken from him and the unborn baby that rest in her womb? Was he just not told of his son-in-laws death just a few hours ago shortly after Flick had found the overturned wagon and his daughter barely alive? What of his dear adopted brother, Flick? He and his wife had longed for a child of their very own, but never in the eighteen years were they able to conceive. Was this too a curse of the house of Shannara that had somehow rubbed off of him and given to Flick? A curse, how many an evil beings had cursed Jerle Shannara and all that followed in his bloodline?  
  
The door in which all focus was upon burst open and startled everyone within. The sound of it brought Shea from the gloominess of his own thoughts as he snapped around to see the healer appear as he shouted at him, "Shea! Get in here at once!" he ordered.  
  
Shea bolted from the window and darted into the room, brushing pass the healer standing in the doorway. The healer grasped Shea's arm firmly and held him in his place as he shut the door. From the serious grim look upon his face, Shea knew what he had to tell him was going to be the worst.  
  
"Shannon is dying now, Shea!" he paused just a moment to let his words sink in. "We have successful delivered her son, but he too is weak and fighting for his life."  
  
Shea's eyes snapped over to the bed to see his daughter lying with the look of death all about her. Her long hair wet and matted rested upon the pillow and her white hands folded upon her chest just over the blankets that covered her. Standing next to the bed was a mid-wife who cradled a small bundle into her arms wrapped tightly in a thick knitted blanket. He listened for a moment for the faintest hint of a baby's wail, but nothing greeted his ears but the raspy sound of his daughter's breath. Snapping his arm away from the healer, Shea rushed to the side of the bed of his daughter and grasped her hand gently to let her know he was there.  
  
The black circles from under her eyes made her white face almost ghostly as she fought for each breath and slowly opened her soft blue eyes to see her father sitting next to her.  
  
"Papa, promise me……." She barely whispered.  
  
"Anything, Shannon." His voice catching up into his throat and his tears stinging his eyes and falling down his cheeks.  
  
"My baby, Papa. Take care of my baby….." her voice slowly drifting from the land of the living to the shadows of death. "I love you, Pa……." Her eyelids closed and her breath was no more.  
  
Shea brought her motionless hand to his lips and kissed it saying, "I love you, Shannon, I love you!" Deep sobs poured through his entire being as he shook from the pain that ripped through his heart and soul.  
  
The healer opened the door to allow those who mourned her to enter and gather around her bed.  
  
Flick stood before Shea and took his hand that held onto his daughter's hand and set his lips upon his adopted brother's brow and then nestled his head next to his. Flick's tears mixed with Shea's as he held onto him weeping openly with him. When Shea places her hand down upon her chest and stood, Flick put his arm around him and led him to the corner of the room. It was Shannon's in-laws who gathered next to her to say their final good-byes.  
  
Shea looked at them as they held each other sobbing and then placed a kiss upon his daughter's brow. They were kindly good folk who had lived in the Valley all of their lives and he had known them and respected them well. They were ten years older than Shea and he remembered how proud they were when their son announced the engagement of their marriage to his daughter. They had loved Shannon and treated her as their own daughter from that moment on. It broke Shea's heart watching them mourn for her and for their own son who would be buried next to her in the upcoming day for their funerals.  
  
The mid-wife slowly approached Shea with the bundle in her arms and she lifted the blanket from off the child's face to show him his new grandson. Blinded with tears, Shea looked down upon the baby and his fair complexion and white downy hair. His eyelashes were closed as he rested in sleep and from under a tiny, button-nose was his pink lips that were puckered in amongst soft, tender, thin-cheeks. It pulled at Shea's heart and he could bare no more, brushing passed the mid-wife and the baby, he dashed out of the door and into the Inn's common room, to the front door and out onto the porch. He could hear Flick's voice calling after him as he ran, but Shea was so lost in his grief that he did not know what he was running from or running to, but he just kept running. Down the dirt path in the back of the Inn, he ran and into the small grove of trees and then out again to the clearing where carved stones marked those he loved who had already passed on.  
  
Seeing his wife's stone, Shea stopped and fell to his knees and then flung himself to the ground clutching the grass and dirt into his fists. His words were incoherent as they were spoken through his sobbing and grief and into the dirt that covered his wife.  
  
If there was a curse on the house of Shannara, then it was going to be Shea who would lift it and restore their name. Swearing and vowing to his soul that some how he would not let another of his line suffer what he had to endure!  
  
A/N: Please let me know if you liked this chapter and want me to continue with this story. I have some wonderful ideas to add to this story that came from the song Silver and Cold by AFI…….thus the name of this story for my idea's of Shea's life after the Sword of Shannara and the birth of his grandson Wil…. 


	2. Chapter 2 Seeing Wil

Chapter 2  
  
Seeing Wil  
  
A vigil was held over the infants cradle day and night and the ever presence Flick Ohmsford and his wife took charge of his care. The healers came in on a regular schedule to mix the potions and give instructions of what must be done in order for the infant's recovery. That is, if he would recover. They gave him little hope since he was born sooner then he should have.  
  
Standing in the doorway and watching Flick's wife, they marveled at the love she so devoted to this tiny baby. She would not listen to their foredooming words and warnings and stubbornly insisted that the baby would not die. Flick joined her in her belief.  
  
However, Shea did not come to visit the infant and refused Flick's constant urging. He already lost his beautiful daughter and her passing was more than he could bear. He kept his distance in getting too close to his daughter's baby, and allowing himself not to love him any more than he had already did, just knowing of his existence. He kept those feelings locked away to protect him from any more pain in the event the baby would suddenly die.  
  
Flick understood this and gave his brother time to heal and his distance towards the infant. But this only made him all the more determined that the baby would not die, but live and bring his brother peace and giving him some happiness that he so needed.  
  
Shea fell into despair after the funeral and the next month that passed only increase he somber mood. He took to locking himself in his room, drinking to numb the pain and searched old records and books. He thought of Allanon and the closeness that seemed more like father and son because this is how the old Druid had treated him during their time together. He could feel closeness to him especially after their final good-bye. If anyone new of or could stop this evil curse upon him that he should live only to watch all those he loved being taking away from him and die at such an early age. Shea felt that he had suffered too much and lost more than anyone should have. He was alone to look at the four empty walls in his room at the Inn of his adopted family. Sure he still had his brother and he was happy for him, still having a wife to love and look after, but for Shea, it was painful to see their happiness when his was gone and taken from him.  
  
He would always feel like he was intruding upon them or indirectly making Flick feel so responsible for his happiness. He could not do this to his brother any longer. He had to leave and somehow make him understand that this was the best thing for him. "Stubborn, Flick!" Shea said to himself out loud. He could not imagine his brother ever agreeing to his departure. No, he was not going to let him just walk out of Shady Vale and go wondering around the four lands, nor was he going to allow the treacherous journey to the north to find the Druid's keep and then try to waken him. Shea knew he could not go the same way that Allanon had taken him, and he thought that there must be another way into Paranor, an easier way. Even if he had found that way, he knew how difficult it was for him to gain access into the Keep. That would take a thief. An idea popped into his mind and a smile curled his lips for the first time in a month.  
  
For all the reasons and fears for not going to Paranor, the reality of living an empty life was worse. Then for this infant, Shea must find away or die trying. Either way, he did not care any longer. Sometime it was harder to live than it was to die.  
  
With that thought, Shea knew what he must do.  
  
A knock came to his door that brought Shea from his thoughts, but he did not call out to answer and ignored it, siting quietly in his chair.  
  
"Shea?" said the familiar voice of his brother. "Are you asleep? Can I come in and visit with you?"  
  
There was no answer. Shea closed his eyes in the darkness of his room and waited for Flick to think that he was asleep in his bed. After a few minutes had passed, he heard his brother's footstep walking away from his door and down the long hallway.  
  
Shea got up from his chair and staggered over to his bed and fell into his pillow. Not caring to undress or change into his nightshirt, he just rolled over and covered himself up with a warm quilt. Closing his eyes, he soon fell deeply asleep.  
  
It was the next morning when Shea came down into the kitchen and greeted everyone with a warm smile. Flick could see an instant change in Shea and his appearance. Even the smile on his face could not hide the tell signs of his days of morning. He had on a clean pressed white shirt and black trousers with his soft, leather, high boots and his long blonde hair was evenly combed and shockingly clean as if he had just had a bath. But, it was his eyes that held the signs of the deep emotions that he tried so hard to cover-up. Their sparkle was missing and his eyes seemed dull and dark. Flick's eyes followed his brother as he made his way into the kitchen with a new bounce in his steps and a smile on his lips.  
  
Flick's suspicion only increased with this sudden change to his demeanor and watched his brother even more closely. "I'm happy that you decided to join us this morning?" commented Flick cautiously as he saw his brother walk over to the cook who handed him a plate of food.  
  
Shea greeted the cook as he took the plate of baked ham and fried eggs giving it a sniff and a delightful look of pleasure. "Outside of my father, Darin, these eggs and ham are the best!"  
The cook gave him a wonderful smile after hearing his compliment from his employer and he turned his eyes back to Flick to see if he caught his great mood.  
  
Shea walked towards the table to sit next to his brother. "It is about time that I come to my senses and rejoined my family."  
  
Flick's comment faded when his wife came out of the kitchen carrying the small infant in her arms.  
"Darin, could you heat up Wil's bath water, it's time we get the young master presentable," said Beth as she rounded the corner of the nursery just off the kitchen entrance. She did not see Shea sitting there and she suddenly stumbled on her words. "Oh, um…….. Shea! I was not aware that you were joining us for breakfast."  
  
Flick's cheeks began to redden when his wife casually mentioned the name he had given to his brother's grandson and he prepared himself for his retort for being so bold.  
  
Shea turned to his brother and smiled at him gently. "Wil, is it, Flick?" he said raising his brow to his brother.  
  
"Wil is as good as any name. Besides by the time you got around to doing it, he'd be half grown and still being called baby!" commented Flick with a bit of sarcasm in his voice as he shrugged his broad shoulders.  
  
"Bring my grandson over to me, so I can get a good look at him," said Shea preparing himself by pulling the chair a short scoot away from the table and holding his arms out to receive the infant.  
  
Beth stared at Shea and was thankful that he had finally dealt with his grief and ready to accept the passing of his beloved daughter. She smiled as she placed Wil into his arms and removed his blanket. She stared longingly into Shea's face to get his first impression of his beautiful grandson.  
  
She was not disappointed because when Shea looked upon his sweet little face and saw the healthy glow and the beautiful, sweet face of his grandson who looked back at him with his clear, bright blue-eyes. He could see the features of his daughter Shannon in his face, the same elvish looks of the fairness that he too possessed. It took his breath away as the child wiggled and thrashed about his small little arms before letting out a loud wail of his discomfort being held out rather than snuggled closely in the warmth of embrace and blanket. Shea took the blanket from Beth and wrapped the infant snuggly and brought him closely to his chest and began to rock him. Slowly he quieted and nestled his little head against the warmth of his grandfather's chest.  
  
"Wil Ohmsford?" commented Shea as he stared at the baby. "It's a perfect name, Flick. I am proud that you have given him his name and cared for him when I was unable. You have been my stronghold during my weakest moments. I'm thankful that you are my brother."  
  
Shea raised his eyes from little Wil and looked at Flick who for the first time did not have a comment to make on the subject in his usual stubborn manner. He shifted his bulky form in the chair and stroked the thick wiry beard feeling uneasy with the tears filling in his eyes. He picked up his cup and took a long sip of his coffee trying to regain his composure. He had never known Shea to be so complimentary especially after days of drinking and had hardly expected him to be in such a wondrous mood. Something was wrong and it echoed in lengths into his mind.  
  
Silently Shea stared at his grandson while Beth helped Darin fill the small tub and make sure the water temperature was perfect for the infant. She readied the homemade soap and other supplies she would need for his bath. Going back into the bedroom she prepared a small area to wash him and placed the clean clothing he would need to change him.  
  
'Oh, my beautiful one,' echoed in his heart and mind silently while he gazed down at him. His heart dropped to his toes feeling and knowing his love for him. 'Would you suffer the same fate that I now try to live with? Would you be asked to live a long life in loneliness and longing'  
Shea knew the answer in his heart and knew as he had suffered so would Wil, he could just feel it within his being. All his answers were with Allanon and he would make the old Durid speak. He owed him that much. Whatever evil lurked in this world, Shea could sense it overshadowing him and his family. If he was going to free his grandson of this curse, he must act soon. As if he could speak to the infant mind to mind, he promised him that he would never allow him to suffer all that he must endure.  
  
Within moments, Beth was by his side, and took Wil with her for his bath. Flick tried to stand to help his wife, but Shea grasped his wrist and snuggly gave it a warm squeeze. "Thank you, Flick. Thank you for everything that you have done for me and now for Wil."  
  
Flick looked at Shea as if seeing him for the first time and cleared his throat uneasily. "You're my brother, Shea. Why wouldn't I always be there for you?"  
  
Shea smiled up at his brother and gave him a sincere nod and released his arm. Turning to his plate of food, he lifted his fork and began devouring it. He never realized just how hungry he truly was. The warm food instantly made him feel much better and his determined spirit lifted with each scoop of his fork to his mouth.  
  
Flick walked into the bedroom and stood next to his wife while she undressed the infant. "If I did not know my brother any better, I'd swear he was saying his good-byes," commented Flick who has always said the first thing on his mind.  
  
"Nonsense, Flick. Shea has just came to terms with his grief and he is now ready to be a grandfather for the first time," Beth giggled as she spoke holding the naked and wiggling infant in her arms holding him securely as she lowered him into the warm water to bath him.  
  
Flick handed her the washcloth and soap and smiled warmly as she ran the wet cloth over the top of his head wetting the short, soft, feathery texture of his blonde hair. Gazing over her shoulder, he chuckled watching her bathe little Wil. He instantly dismissed his suspicions immediately, thinking his wife was right. How could Shea leave when he had a grandson who needed him?  
  
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A/N: Sorry it took me so long to update this story. I've been so overloaded.  
Anyway, Thank you, ShireElf for your reveiw. You all ready know how special I think you are!  
You know I will surprise you sometime in the next few chapters.  
I wish I was getting more interest in this story, but perhaps once this story gets going, I am hoping anyway..... 


	3. Chapter 3 To Catch a Thief

_Chapter 3_  
  
**To Catch a Thief**  
  
Soundlessly the window opened and the cool night air slowly drifted in sending a shiver and a chill down his spine and his hands gathered the cloak about his shoulders. Tossing his bag out the window, he saw that it had missed the new Juniper bushes and landed in the shadows of the old tree. Through the branches, Shea could make out the fullness of the moon that shone in the clear open blackness of the night sky. The tree was the tallest in Shady Vale and had been there long before any Inn was thought of.  
  
Shea pulled the window shut and pushed the shutters closed. Standing, he turned to look over his bedroom for the last time. From childhood to middle age, this had always been his room. There was happiness attached to his memories of this room, this is where he and his wife shared their lives, this is where Shannon was born. The four walls gave him solitude, security and seen him through his darkest hours. He pondered a moment wondering if he was to ever see this room again. But for this mission he was sending himself on, he was not sure if he would ever return.  
  
He remembered the last time he had fled with Flick from this room after seeing the Skull bearer lurking about the grounds in the middle of the night. He and his brother knew that both the strangers that they had met were speaking the truth and sent them running into the darkness to escape the terror of which they were forewarned.  
  
Now quietly and slowly, Shea would depart in secrecy to protect those that he loved. By Keeping Flick from knowing about his plan to leave, he turned to walk to the door. Grasping the door handle and giving it a turn, he slowly opened it silently. Going into the hallway, he stood there for a moment and sadly looked over the empty room. Shutting the door quietly, he began his journey as he headed for the back door and out into the darkness of the night.  
  
XXX  
  
Panamon Creel took a long draw from his pipe that was clenched in-between his teeth as he flipped and shuffled the stack of cards with one hand. Masterfully his fingers smoothly folded them neatly into a pile and set them in front of himself. Taking the top card, he flicked it over to his guests at the small table giving each one a card until he had dealt out the correct amount. Taking the five cards he dealt himself and using his pike that was attached to the limb of his other arm, he turned them over and his brow tightened in thought. Carefully he considered them and his jaw set in resolution as he lifted his gaze to his fellow game players. Weariness and amusement crossed his expression while he watched them considering their own strategy of game.  
  
The betting soon began as the four Leah guards put their coins in the center of the table. Panamon Creel placed his cards face down upon the table and fingered the stacks of coins he had won on previous hands played and added his coins, but upped the bet. The Leah guards looked at each other and then over to the dealer suspiciously wondering if he was just bluffing or he had another winning hand. Each one sized up their own cards again and tried to predict their own outcome. They carefully fingered their cards nervously as the dealer watched them intently. As each one exchanged one or two cards in the hopes of landing a higher score, they kept their eyes expressionless when they added those new cards to their hand. The dealer requested none. Beads of sweat began to form on their brows as their nerves began to wavier. Each one matched the dealer's coins in the center of the table and added an additional coin, upping the bet.  
  
The cool cockiness and confidence of the dealer's expression gave them no comfort in predicting his next move. "Well, my fine fellows, so you think you have a better hand?" he said smoothly. "I'll match your coins," he paused for a few seconds and with a winning smile, he added. "I'll raise the bet another ten pence!"  
  
"Ten pence!" shouted the Leah guards to his left. "I don't have another ten pence!"  
  
"It's ten pence or withdraw your hand!" commented Panamon Creel arrogantly as he lifted his brow to the guard.  
  
The Leah guard scowled angrily at the dealer and stood up facing him. "All that I have worthy enough of ten pence is my sword!"  
  
"Well enough, sit yourself down and add it to the pile, my fine fellow. I'll take it to match the bet."  
  
The other three guards stared at the one handed dealer and his pike that was attached to the limb of his arm and then over to the guardsmen as he added his sword upon the table.  
  
Not wanting to lose their swords, they folded their cards and called the dealer.  
  
The door opened and a servant with a tray meander in. He immediately approached Panamon Creel and whispered something into his ear and set tankards of ale upon the table. The dealer smiled and placed his pipe upon the table. Confidently he took his entire stack of coins and placed them into the middle of the pile and the Leah guard's temper burst.  
  
"You know I have not a thing left to call your bet!" he shouted.  
  
"Then you withdraw?"  
  
Slamming his cards upon the table he stood showing two high cards and the other three simple lower cards, claiming defeat.  
  
Panamon Creel stood up and moved the pile of coins over in front of him and took the sword in his only hand. "Thank you, my good men," he said with coolness in his voice. "Our little game has ended and it seems I have a visitor."  
  
"Show us your cards, gambler!" echoed the Leah guards together.  
  
"That my friends will cost you a stack of coins!"  
  
"You're bluffing! You've not got a winning hand, and you know it?" the swordless guard demanded incredulously.  
  
Panamon Creel raised the sword he held in his hand in front of him as a warning. "That is how the game is played. You have all withdrawn your hands, then I claim victory. Follow the servant to the door, my good fellows. Perhaps we will play next week and I'll give you a chance to win back your loses."  
  
The guards knew that their king held Panamon Creel in great respect for his skills with a sword and they dare not challenge him.  
  
Pulling their friend away abruptly from the one handed man, they followed the servant from the room and Shea walked in after them.  
  
Seeing their disgruntle faces, Shea knew Panamon Creel all too well and knew that his talents had increased the coins in his pockets.  
  
"Are these the last of King Mention's guards that you have lighten their pockets!" said Shea jesting.  
  
"Shea Ohmsford!" shouted Panamon Creel. "How long has it been since we have last crossed paths?"  
  
"Too, long my friend," commented Shea as he reached out his hand to shake it.  
  
"If you've come to see the king, than I would hate to disappoint you in telling you that he is not here."  
  
"Where has he gone, now? Hunting or keeping counsel in the South lands?"  
  
"Your right on the later, dear Shea. It seems his wife keeps him busy these days with her father's affairs in building the new republic," Panamon Creel informed him.  
  
"Yes, I have heard much about that and I say good for them!" Shea commented and giving his friend his immediate opinion on the matter. "Having a united front among men will only increase the security if ever a need should arise." Pausing a moment, Shea then began to tell him what really brought him to Leah. "It is not King Mention that I was hoping to see, but you."  
  
"Then this must be very important for you to travel here to speak with me."  
  
"Yes, Panamon, it is very important to me!" added Shea.  
  
"Then come, my friend. There is fresh ale on the table and a pouch of strong tobacco for our pipes."  
  
All through the rest of the night the two friends sat drinking their ale, laughing and smoking. It wasn't until they had their fill, when Shea began to tell him of his plan to enter Paranor to awaken the Druid.  
  
"You've lost you sense of mind, Shea!" demanded Panamon Creel.  
  
"We both know the evil that has lived and breathed upon our lands and not just in our life span, but age old. As far as we know it, there could still be evilness about, even though the evil lord has been destroyed," said Shea. "This curse is real, my friend and it is directed at all the descendants of Jerle Shannara, my father!"  
  
Panamon Creel raised his brow incredulously at his closest friend. "That is what I am talking about! One just does not walk into Paranor and summons a Druid because you think you have a cruse upon you!" He sat up straight in his chair and stared at his friend to make sure his words were sinking in. "There are magic's in the keep of the Druids, terrible magic's and traps. The keep is enormous in size all with secret doors to gain entrance. Have you seen it, Shea, it is forbidding!"  
  
"Yes, Panamon, I've seen it! I've been within the Druid's keep. I know its size and some of its secrets. But no less, my friend, I must at least try or forever bear the burden that my family will suffer. Allanon knows everything and sees everything. If there is any hope for the house of Shannara, it rests with him. The old Druid keeps his secrets well and this one he will not continue to keep from me."  
  
Panamon Creel studied his friend intently and knew by his words that he meant everything he was saying whether he agreed with them or not. Shea was going to Paranor with or without him. "All right, Shea, I can take you to Paranor. I do know the land well as I lived years in the northlands. But getting into the keep will be another story. I hope you have a plan for that!"  
  
"I think a thief can find the way if the desire rest upon his own heart," commented Shea with a mirthful grin upon his face.  
  
"Do you now, Shea? Surely you may know me better than my own self and I intend to keep myself intact, my friend."  
  
"As do I," Shea added.  
  
"Then tomorrow, my friend, we will leave for the northland," said Panamon Creel and he emptied his tankard upon the table  
  
When he stood to escort his friend to a guestroom, Shea reached over to the table to the cards still folded faced down. He lifted them into this hand and examined them. There was only a mixture of simple cards and either of them matched the other. Surely one of the poorest hands that he had ever seen.  
  
Panamon Creel slowly turned around when he noticed that Shea was not directly behind him and saw what kept his interest. Shea's eyes lifted from the cards giving him a knowing look. His friend's face flashed a brightly lighthearted smile and laughed as he told him. "It's all in the presentation, Shea. _If you believe in your mind you hold the highest cards, you will win and never falter!"  
_  
Shacking him head at him, Shea tossed the cards upon the table and stood to join him. The both walked out of the room to find a comfortable bed to sleep.  
  
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A/N: Shea now believes with Panamon Creel's help, that getting to Paranor and the Druid's keep will finally happen. He is determined to wake the Druid Allanon, but what will Flick do when he realizes that his brother is missing without saying anything to him?  
  
Jakarta: Thank you so much for your review. I really appreciate you stopping by and reading my story. I have just begun reading the Terry Brooks series and just loving it! They are awesome books! I also love writing FF stories…… I hope you come back and continue reading and find out what I have planned for this story….  
  
ShireElf: Yes, those sites are really busy and you know I love writing on The Lord of the Rings of course, but not so much Harry Potter…..yikes!  
  
After reading The Sword of Shannara, The Elfstones of Shannara and now almost finishing up reading The Wishsong of Shannara, I couldn't help but to think after reading Terry Brooks summary of Shea and Flick's life afterwards. I just loved those characters so much!  
  
Anyway, the story is slowly piecing itself together…..I just wish I had more time to write as this year I am so swamped with everything. But you know me, ShireElf, I'll not give it up until I have finished it! 


	4. Chapter 4 To Summon A Druid

Chapter Four

To Summons a Druid

"Wake up Beth," Flick quietly whispered while he lowered himself to sit upon the bed next to his wife.

Her eyes instantly opened, being so startled by her husband's soft beckoning and she instantly thought that something had happened to Will in the middle of the night.

Her heart beat wildly in her chest as she sat straight up and tossed off the covers. "Get the healer, Flick while I tend him."

Flick reached out his arms and clutched him wife before she made a dash out of their bed. "Will is fine, my dear. He is resting peacefully in his bed. I need to speak with you is all."

Beth raised her eyes to meet those of her husband and knew it must be something very serious for him to wake her from sleep. She instantly saw that her husband was fully dressing in his traveling clothes, cloak and all. "Why are you dressed like this, Flick. Are you going some where? And why are you leaving in the middle of the night?"

"I've got to go, Beth." The seriousness in the tone of his voice and the straight gaze of his eyes made her realize that this was very important to her husband. "It's Shea. I got a feeling something is very wrong, Beth. I must find him."

"But Flick, it is the middle of the night. Can't it wait until morning?" she said. "He has gone off before. Why is this any different?"

"No, Beth," the same seriousness of his voice echoed in her ears. "This is different. I can feel this deep within me. Shea's in trouble and he needs me. I fear I have waited too long. I have to go this minute."

Beth slide her legs from under the covers and scrambled off the bed. She noticed her husband's traveling bags were already packed and sitting by their bedroom door. "Can I pack you vittles for your travel and do you have enough socks and clean clothing?" She placed her hands upon her hips and visually inspected his bags.

Flick chuckled to himself at his wife in knowing how she would fuss and fret over him. "Yes, my dear. I have everything that I need."

He came up behind her and wrapped his thick arms around her and held her tightly. "I love you, Beth and I promise I'll not be gone too long. Just until I have found Shea and bring him home again."

She looked up into his soft gently eyes and stood on her tip-toes to kiss her husband's lips behind the coarse beard. "Take care of yourself, Flick and don't let anything happen to you. You come back safe and sound to me."

"I'll just have to get through Shea's thick skull and convince him that he is coming back home with me. That or hog tie him, either way, I'll find him and we'll be back safe enough."

Beth noticed that her husband did not have his scarf wrapped around his neck and she pulled away from him to run to their closest to find it. Taking it she quickly wrapped it around him and tucked it in neatly under the collar of his coat. "There now, I'll not have you getting your chill from the night air. Now off with your and hurray back. Will and I need you, too."

"You just take good care of that boy for me, Beth and I'll be home before you even miss me."

"You're too late for that, Flick," she teased. "I'm already missing you."

With one last kiss, Flick turned and grabbed his bags and without looking back, he took them and was out the door.

Beth watched as the door closed behind him and took her woolen shawl to wrap around her. Walking over to the table by their bed, taking the candle, she crept out of her room to Will's bedroom to check that he was sleeping well.

XXX

Only a single red glow for a cheroot broke the only light in the camp as Panamon Creel drawn upon it as he leaned up against a tree in the blackness of the night. His eyes remained fixed on a distant yellow glow only a few leagues from where they camped. He was glad that he convinced Shea that they should not burn no campfire during their travels into the forest. Just on the crest of the cliff was the keep of the Druid. Panamon Creel had hoped once Shea saw that it was impossible to enter the passageway, nor find the secrets of its gates, he would decide to give it up and return back for their own lands. Anyway, for him, this travel was not a waste. In fact, Shea chose the right time. His welcome was growing thin and his safety had become very guarded as his pockets became fuller and those of Leah were emptied.

Crushing out his cheroot with his booted foot, Panamon returned to where Shea was sleeping and lend down upon his knee to waken him.

"Wake up, Shea," insisted Panamon Creel and waited for his friend to rise.

"What is it?" asked Shea and he fought to bring himself fully awake. He felt that he had not been sleeping for more than an hour as he could barely focus. "It can not be dawn, yet?"

"No, my friend and we can not afford to wait until dawn," he commented. "It seems we are being followed by someone just a league away and there is another camp a few leagues a head of us and we are directly in the middle. We must keep moving and allow the cover of the night to keep our whereabouts a secret. Come, Shea we must go."

Shea quickly rose to his feet and began collecting his things to follow Panamon Creel through the forest land. They worked quickly and quietly until they were packed and moving step by step through the blackness of the night.

Dawn was just approaching when Shea and Panamon Creel were standing at the edge of the cliff and facing the steep walls of the Keep. The black walls seemed endless as they stretch across the high cliff and towered above them as if a huge mountain stood before them. The windows were blackened and there was no sight of any door or gate. But Shea knew from what Flick had told him of the keep that when Allanon entered from a lever hidden within the rock upon the wall. . Looking at the wall again, Shea knew it was going to take them sometime to check every nook and cranny to find it.

From the curve of the cliff, Shea thought he heard voices. Quickly Panamon Creel pulled Shea just behind a turret and an old fallen log to hide. From their lookout point, they saw two tall figures shrouded in black cloaks. They seemed to float across the terrain rather than walk it. They looked foreboding in stature and Shea shivered at the sight of them. Panamon Creel kept his sharp eyes upon them and watched their every move. One seemed to slither as if a snaked walked upright, while the other seemed to float or hover just inches above the ground. By the looks of them, perhaps there was more than just one druid of this keep.

"Well, Shea to your luck, it seems some druids are going to show us the way in," said Panamon Creel and he crawled to the edge of the turret and ducked behind a rock so they would not see him. Shea soon followed to keep up with his friend. Panamon Creel waved him quiet as he kept his eyes upon them.

Crouching down, they're look out spot was perfect because just in front of them the two mystic creatures stopped in front of the wall. Panamon Creel could have sworn when the slithering form reached out to count the block stones of the wall, he saw what appeared to be claws. He quickly blinked his eyes as to get a better focus. The claw hand disappeared as it pushed upon a stone that opened and he could see the cloaked form reach his hand inside for a moment. Than if by magic the wall silently moved with just the single sound of a click from a spring being released. Slowly but surely the door inched its way open and the two forms slipped inside, but did not stop to see the door close behind them. They heard their voices trail off into the tunnel that they had entered.

Thinking quickly, Panamon Creel waved to Shea to follow him and the both took off quickly to the open wall before it had a chance to close. Panamon Creel was almost through when he suddenly turned to see if Shea was behind him. Shea was on the ground trying to pull himself up after stumbling upon an embedded stone stuck deep into the dirt. His bag had fallen from his shoulder and some things lay scattered upon the dirt. Quickly Shea raced to gather them as Panamon Creel leaned upon the stone wall to keep it from closing all the way. But the wall was unyielding and much too heavy to stop. Beads of sweat formed on Panamon Creel's brow as he stood there pushing with all his might to stop the wall from closing. Within inches of it being closed, Shea squeezed in between it barely making it inside. They both knew not to make a sound in fear of being discovered by those who entered just moments ahead of them. They had hoped to hide in the cover of darkness and make their way deep with in the keep. They sat there in the darkness for what seemed to be the longest hours of Shea's life, just listening to the faintest sounds of those who entered before them. Once the sound had silenced, they began their climb of the spiral steps before them.

In Shea's mind, he replayed all that Flick had told him of the Druid's keep and how they made their way through to the rooms above them.

The stone steps were in front of them and it was just as Flick had told him. Slowly and carefully Panamon Creel and Shea climbed them. The spiral steps wound endlessly as they climbed and climbed. With any luck the two druids who entered earlier would never know of their presence.

Soon they both stood in front of a massive wooden door and as Shea remembered to touch the binding of the door and it opened with grinding iron on to iron. Panamon Creel looked at Shea and they both stood silent in the dark dampness of the keep, but heard no other sound.

They stood in a large chamber that was well light by torches upon the wall. Cautiously they entered and stood in the middle of chamber feeling that there was no one around. There were doors and a tunnel all around them and for a moment Shea froze in trying to remember which one Flick had told him that they needed to take.

Shea looked at the tunnel and he knew this was the right one. Soon they were in the back staircase and Panamon Creel came around to stand next to him.

"This staircase better not be like the one we climbed a few moments ago, Shea or you'll be finding the Druid's room by yourself!" Panamon Creel wiped his brow with the back of his sleeve and glared at his friend.

"It's not far up, just follow me," insisted Shea and he motioned Panamon Creel on. At the top of the staircase was another tunnel and at the end was another large stone door with iron handle. There was hardly any sound coming from behind the stone door. He felt the heat suddenly increase and he knew instantly where Shea was taking them. He looked at Shea in a warning way, but Shea only nodded. Lifting the handle of the stone door it opened and they were met with such a blast of heat it took their breath away. Shea went inside without waiting to see if his friend would enter. Finding the cat walks, he turned from them and instead of climbing the steps he chose to take the third door, by first triggering the level just under the rock by his foot, the door swung open and the two stood in a chamber. Quickly shutting the door and blocking out the intense heat from the chamber that they had just left, they both took in a deep breath and relaxed for awhile to regain some of their strength.

"How much farther is this room you are seeking, Shea?" asked the breathless Panamon Creel.

"Longer than you would care to travel, my friend. But to find the Druid, we must!"

Shea stood up and held his hand open for his friend to grasp it. Panamon Creel rolled his eyes before he accepted Shea's hand and reluctantly took it and stood next to him.

Walking through the chamber and then into the tunnel, they entered a corridor and seemed to wind endlessly. There were barred doors on either side of them, but Shea seemed to ignore them and continued down the corridor.

"Where does this lead?" asked Panamon Creel.

"We must find the staircase that leads upward," was all Shea commented.

"Another staircase!" snarled Panamon Creel and then added. "But wasn't there a staircase just off the catwalk in that other room?"

"It was the wrong staircase. Now come, Panamon, we have along way to travel."

On and on they half walked and ran through the long winding passageway until they came to a rotunda. On either side of the rotunda, were tunnels and Shea turned and crossed the rotunda and entered the first tunnel. At the end of the tunnel was a staircase that spiral upward and Shea began to climb it. Looking back for his friend, he saw him at the bottom step just sitting there.

"I'm not taking another step until I have a breather!" Panamon Creel said without even looking in Shea's direction. He turned slightly to see if Shea still waited for him. "I am beginning to think it would have been better for me at Leah, rather than taking you to Paranor. At least using my wit is easier then using the strength of my legs."

"For a northlander and a thief, you're certainly not in very good shape," teased Shea.

"On the contrary, Shea, my friend. I am known to move quite quickly when reasoning is profitable."

"Where I am leading you, there are treasures beyond what even you can imagine, Panamon Creel," commented Shea.

"I can imagine quite a bit, Shea."

"Then you will not be too disappointed!" stated Shea and hoped that the promise of treasure would spur his friend onward. He just did not tell his friend that if he took it, he'd have to deal directly with Allanon.

Panamon Creel rose to the occasion and kept foot step to foot step with his friend as they entered another long passageway that seemed to be longer then the one that they had crossed on the lower level.

This time, Shea suddenly stopped when he entered another rotunda and he turned to the stone door with an iron handle and he opened it. Going through the door the two stood in a large chamber with countless shelves of books and tables. There were leather bound chairs with dimly lit torches burning in iron mantles that were mounted in the wall above them. Thick rugs were scattered throughout this chamber and gave an added-warmth to this room. There were countless treasures of rare crafted items in all sorts of precious stones and metals. This caught Panama's attention as he admired each one going down the line looking them over. He did not notice what kept his friend's attention nor did he care, he was lost within his own greed.

When the sound of a click and a spring being unhinged and then a door opening, Panamon Creel turned around to see the wall of books opening to a hidden room. There in the center of the room stood a Tre-stone and the rarest aged books that Shea had ever seen. This rounded room was darkened, except what little light came from the only narrow window in the center of the furthest curve of the wall. It could have mid-day or dawn for all that Shea knew for the hours it took seeking this one room and this Tre-stone.

Panamon Creel put down the jeweled goblet and walked towards Shea who stood upon the platform in front of this stone and he called out the Druid's name.

Slowly Panamon Creel came closer to see if Shea could summons the Druid. After a moment nothing happened. Shea again called out, raising his voice even louder. "Come forth Allanon. I summons you!"

When nothing happened again, Panamon Creel smugly smiled at his friend. "Perhaps you have the wrong room and the wrong Tre-stone."

"This has the mark of Allanon upon it and this is the room in which Flick spoken of, when the Druid took him here."

"Well then perhaps the Druid will not give you audience," added Panamon Creel.

"Allanon, you will hear me and you will come to me, I'll not leave until I have spoke to you!" cried out Shea as his own frustration began to build and overwhelm him.

"Well if you are going to be awhile, I have some things to look over. Let me know when you have had enough, Shea!" said Panamon Creel arrogantly and turned quickly back to the jeweled goblet and other such treasures.

With one swift sweep of his foot, Shea kicked the Tre-stone and it reeled before it suddenly tipped over and fell to the ground. An earth quaking shuddered shook the room in which they stood and Shea began to loose his balance falling forward from the platform. Great silver light engulfed him and raised him upwards, suspending him in mid-air and sealed him in a cold silvery grave. As an ice cycle suspended over a window frame in the coldest night of winter, so was Shea. His skin was void of a healthy pink color, now looked solid and silver and cold as stone. His hair that once flown freely about his shoulders, stood still, solid and unmoving. There was no sparkle in Shea's eyes, nor was there color in them, but cold and silver. All about him the silver cloud clung onto him, unyielding to his limbs.

Panamon Creel dropped the goblet to the floor and it smashed into pieces. His eyes froze on his friend suspended in mid-air and his hand grabbed his sword at his side. Drawing it, he held it up before him fearing that something was going to happen to himself as well. He circled around the room and slowly came closer to his friend. Fear seized Panamon's heart and he called to him, half screaming, "Shea!"

A noise of movement echoed in the room and Panamon Creel turned sharply behind him and waited for whom ever to enter and to encounter him. He held his sword tightly in his hot hand and kept it out in front of himself. Slowly his feet crossed one over the other as he moved across the stone floor. His breath came in quick shallow flow and he swallowed hard from the dryness in his throat. Beads of sweat began to form as he waited not taking his eyes off the distant wall or wooden door. His sword gleamed against the glow of silver that engulfed his dearest friend. Moments ticked by, but nothing happened. Panamon Creel turned back to Shea who remained frozen in mid-air and he knew he could do nothing to help him. He was forever lost to him and Panamon Creel stood there alone and still alive. Turning quickly, he gave Shea one last look and took off running out of the room and to get himself out of Paranor.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The click of a hinge being released was the only noise heard in the room that cascaded a silver eerie glow. Another bookcase opened and two darkly hooded figures hovered into the room. Silently the wraith pointed towards the fallen Tre-stone and the Mwellret slithering form slowly approached hissing and spiting the closer it got.

It's shiny green eyes looked at the suspended Valman frozen for all time and then back to the fallen Tre-stone. Sensing the evil force within it, Stythy approached quietly.

"I'vesss comess masster," said Stythy. "I am heresss."

---Know me, now! For I am the Ildatch. The book of the dark magic. Come to me and release me……

Stythy slithered back away from the Tre-stone to cower in the corner of the chamber. The Wraith hovered across the room and raised his hands upwards and a great bolt of white light descended from its fingertips and upon the stone. With at great explosion, The Ildatch came forth from the core of the stone and flew into the hands of the Wraith. They were now one with each other, dark and hideous their souls intertwined and the book opened the mind of the Wraith to its dark powers.

"I've done your bidding, masssster. I hassss brought you the powerssss of the Dark Lord. You mussst keep your promisesssss. Free our peoplessss and releasssse our mountain back to ussss," said Stythy hissing and cowering in the far corner.

An evil laugh came from behind the dark cloaked hood and the wraith raised his hand against the Mwellret and the power released from its fingertips sending a white bolt that devoured the creature.

Snapping and hissing it fell to the floor and curled its body and then silence fell as the Wraith tucked the power of dark magic into its protective cloak and hovered closer to the Valman suspended in mid-air, wrapped in silver and as cold as stone. The Wraith picked up a jewel that was discarded upon the floor and through his hands the dark magic of the Ildatch releases a power of itself within it. Placing the stone in the center of the broken Tre-stone, the Wraith laid both his hands upon the stone and a white energy released pulling the pieces of the stone in a forced so ominous that it resealed itself and stood whole as if nothing had ever touched it. Turning, the Wraith and its master now freed hovered from the chamber, leaving the Stythy to die upon the floor next to Shea caught in-between the two worlds of the Druids.

XXX

Descending the tallest staircase as fast as his legs could carry him, Panamon Creel could almost feel his freedom as his feet landed on the stone floor in front of the hidden doorway on the crest of the mountain that he and Shea had entered.

His hand fumbled to find the hidden latch as his pike hand pushed hard against the stone wall. To his luck, he accidentally hit the latch and he heard the spring release and felt the door give way to open. Panamon Creel pushed against the door with all of his strength to hurry it along so he could make his escape as quickly as possible. Sweat poured from his brow and into his eyes while he pushed and pushed against it. When the opening was just big enough for him to escape, he quickly squeezed himself through and fell against something hard directly in his path.

Strong arms grabbed him firmly and pulled him to stand directly in front of Flick. "Panamon Creel, you black hearted soul! I should have known it was you to take Shea here!"

Flick pushed the thief away from him and cared less that the fellow landed on the ground at his feet. Flick looked to the opened door expecting Shea to come running out. A moment passed, but Shea did not come out. Turning to the thief he shouted. "Where is Shea? If you left him in there by himself, I'll turn you inside out!"

Getting upon his knees and pulling himself to stand and face Flick, he suddenly stated, "He's gone, Flick! Shea is dead!"

XXXX

A silver haze enveloped him as he felt himself walk or more so, float through the thick mist. He felt light as a feather and his mind seemed slower and harder for him to focus upon anything. Shea looked at his hands and they seemed almost invisible as if he could see directly through them. When he raised his eyes and looked straight on, Allanon stood before him.

"Shea!" yelled the Druid Allonan, "What have you done?"

"Something has happened to me, Allanon. I feel so very different, so very weak."

"You are not to be here, Shea! You were never to go through the portal!" exclaimed Allanon.

"I had to see you, Allanon, even if it means my death in doing so," said Shea weakly.

"You have accomplished just that, my dear friend. Not only have you brought your own death upon yourself, the portal is blocked and I can not get out to save you."

"Then tell me, Allanon, before I die, that what I brought into this world, my daughter, who is now dead and now my only grandson who is so weak and fragile. Tell me now that this curse upon the name of Shannara will not take his life also. I can not bear within my soul that my sins are in to him and he should suffer so. You must save him Allanon, You must save my only grandson. I beg you, Allanon, please save Wil!"

"All manner of evil seeks the blood of Shannara until it is wiped from existence, but with this curse upon your father and upon you and your family, there are also many blessings, and gifts, Shea. Shannara will rise above all and with their courage will defeat the evil forces of this world. I can not foresee everything, but rather know this in my heart and soul. That courage exists within you, Shea, within your grandson."

"But why, Allanon? Why does my grandson grow up without his mother or I grow old without my wife. Have I not done everything that was asked of me and yet I go on suffering each day. I have nothing left, Allanon, nothing to live for, but a broken heart that will never mend nor will I ever know another gentle soul to caress the great loneliness of the long years of my life. My grandson is weak and fragile. I fear he will soon die too."

"Those answers are clouded even amongst the most wise. But still, Shea, there are those that love you and need you. It is not in your nature to give up even when all else seems that you should. You have a brave heart, my friend and a kind soul. You also have a grandson who needs you as a father. He will live, Shea and the both of you will fill each others lives full."

Shea looked into the eyes of Allanon and he could see that everything that he had said was true. His heart was lifted from the darkest despair that had clouded all his reason and he knew the gravity of what he now faced.

"We must get you out of here, before it is too late," stated Allanon. "While the portal is blocked, so is my vision. Before you entered, I could feel the presence of evil and it had awoken me. I was about to rise when you entered, but now I can not sense it any longer. My powers are on the other side of this portal and are no use here where I sleep. Our only hope is to those that you have traveled with. It is up to them if you are freed."

XXX

"Panamon Creel, you coward!" shouted Flick. "You take me to, Shea now!"

Flicked grabbed his good arm and hoisted him unto his feet. Panamon Creel knew better not to fight this Valeman, as his stubbornness could never be changed once he had made up his mind to something.

"Okay, Valeman! Have it your way!" shouted Panamon Creel. "I'll take you to Shea and you can see for yourself that he is beyond any help. He is died Flick and forever lost to us!"

"Lead and I will follow you!"

Again Panamon Creel faced the long staircase, endlessly passageways, rotunda and more endless, dreaded staircases. But he kept moving and Flick stayed with him heel to toe.

The chamber door was left open when the two raced into it, all was the same just as Panamon Creel had left it. The broken goblet shattered upon the floor, and Shea locked in mid-air.

Flick's heart heaved in his chest and felt that it had stopped beating, and his lungs seemed to collapse making it impossible for him to take his next breath. His eyes filled with tears that began to run down the wrinkles of his solemn face. But for all the sorrow that filled him, Flick held on to his hope that Shea was not dead, and he clung to the strength within him. Knowing without reasoning whether it was sane or not, Flick would literally pull Shea from his grave to save him.

Flick lunged forward and with all of his strength grabbed Shea as they both landed upon the ground next to each other, Flick holding on to Shea with everything he had.

The silver and cold that held Shea suspended dispelled and instantly dissolved.

Panamon Creel raced over to the two brothers that clung to each other upon the floor, and he reached down to see if they both lived. To Panamon Creel's amazement, they both took in a deep breath and opened their eyes. Relief instantly filled Panamon Creel and he let out a laugh. "You're a crazy one, Flick! Crazy and careless, and thank goodness that you are!"

"And to that I agree with you, Northnerman!" came the voice of Allanon clothed in his long dark robes that shadowed his face within its hood.

Allanon lifted Shea to stand, while Panamon Creel did the same for Flick, with whom he admired more than what he even realized.

Flick walked over to Shea and grasped his shoulders so he could look into his brother's eye and know that he was all right. Shea could feel his brother's hands tremble. Looking into his eyes, he could see the tears filling in them. Shea pushed his brother's arms from him and brought him into a warm masculine hug as brother held brother until the fear of losing each other was gone.

Allanon looked upon the two before him, and he smiled.

While the three conversed with each other, Allanon walked over the Tre-stone and placed his hands upon the stone. He could sense the evil that stirred within its prison. Taking in his breath and closing his eyes, Allonan was thankful that the most ominous evil that dwelt there remained undiscovered and undisturbed. He placed the stone next to the platform and stood back allowing his eyes to roam taking in his chambers.

Turning around and thinking all was as it should be, he saw a burnt stain upon the stone floor in a circular pattern and it caused him to pause and ponder over it.

The end…………

Thank you all for reading and reviewing this little story that I started over a year ago and just got around to finally finishing it. I am sorry it took me so long in doing so…..I do not like to leave a story hanging until it is finished. Every time I listened to one of my favorite songs from AFI, "Silver and Cold", it reminded me that I had forgotten something.

Anyway, after reading The Wishsong of Shannara by Terry Brooks and the part of the Mwellret's speech to Jair inspired me to write this short story (as did the my favorite song)..

I hope that I did not give too much away for anyone who has not read this book yet…If you haven't it is a must read book!

One of my goals is reading all of Terry Brooks books, now that is a major challenge for me, but one that I think I will really enjoy in doing….

Thank you Shire Elf….After all this time, coming back to reviewing my story is awesome! It was wonderful to see a friend again in my reviews….(I hope you will do a short story from one of Terry's books or another Lord of the Rings, so I can repay your kindness…I am not familiar with your current stories you are writing and is why I have not been reviewing.)


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